The Phantom's Lullaby
by GallifreyIreland
Summary: "With his past, how could the future be any less than agonizing? And yet…she had kissed him. Twice. In that moment, it had almost seemed like she had wanted to stay..." An alternate ending to ALW's PoTO with references to Kay's Phantom. E/C
1. Lullaby

**A/N: Well, here it is. My first-ever published fic! This is exciting stuff. Basically this little story started playing itself out in my head while I was bored at work, so I just kept thinking it over and editing it in my mind until I could get home and write it down. I think this has been rewritten like twenty times now, but I finally got it how I wanted it. Please review- any and all criticism or advice is much appreciated!**

**UPDATE: At the suggestion of my new beta, MadameGiry25, I've edited this chapter (I'll also be editing Chapter 2 soon). Hopefully it will help the flow of this fic. **

**The italics mean Christine or Erik's thoughts, italics in quotes is them singing. I hope that isn't confusing.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lullaby<strong>_

It's funny, the things one thinks about while in a boat on an underground lake.

The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, for instance, was looking forward to a nice hot cup of tea and an evening of sitting by the fire, talking with his beautiful young fiancé.

But for Christine Daaé, calm rational thoughts like the Vicomte's were in short supply. Her head was spinning with the events of the past months. Becoming diva nearly overnight, meeting Raoul again, the murder of Joseph Buquet…and then there had been three months of nothing. Things had been strangely calm. Of course, this fact should have had everyone in the Opera on edge.

When the Phantom reappeared, disrupting the grand masquerade ball, his absence was finally explained. Then the chaos had started again. Fevered rehearsals, learning of Raoul's plot, dealing with her confusing feelings about Raoul and the man she had thought an angel…

Of course, she hadn't told Raoul of the bizarre stirrings she felt in her soul. The deep-rooted feeling that their plan was not right, the compulsion she felt to warn _him, _the Phantom, of what was to come.

But then it was too late. The opening night of _Don Juan Triumphant_ was upon them, and once again she was swept into trouble.

_How did my life come to this? Ultimatums and jealousy…_

Even with everything that had brought her to that moment in the Phantom's lair, she had finally believed that it was over. She could put everything from her past behind her, and start the new life that had been slowly unfolding in her mind.

But nothing is ever that easy.

All these thoughts went through her mind in the short minute before she realized what was happening.

"Raoul."

Her fiancé continued rowing as if he hadn't heard her. Maybe he hadn't. The words of the mob echoed around them, getting louder every second, making it difficult to think.

"Raoul, stop!"

His head jerked around, startled at the commanding tone in her voice. But he recovered quickly. Looking slightly annoyed, he let the boat slow and replied, "Christine, we have to hurry. They'll be here any minute." Exasperation colored his voice. He was anxious to be gone from the dark world of the Phantom.

Christine didn't have the patience (or the time) to talk this out with him. She needed to go back.  
>She wasn't supposed to be here with Raoul. Abandoning her angel of music when he needed her most...<p>

_How did he not understand? Why did he send me away? I had chosen to stay with him. Decided to be his wife. Released Raoul to enjoy his life without me._

But then everything went wrong. Her angel had sent them away and told them to forget him._Like there was any chance of that happening_, she thought.  
>Before she could protest, Raoul had untangled himself from the ropes that bound him and pulled her into the boat. Then they were coasting away.<br>But she wasn't going to let anyone make decisions for her any longer. This was her life, and she had made up her mind on who to spend it with.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. Be safe."

And with that, she slipped out of the boat.

Raoul was too shocked to stop her.

Christine knew he would never be able to understand her decision. Not that she blamed him. To anyone else it would seem like she was giving up a perfectly normal, happy life with her childhood sweetheart for an older man. A disfigured murderer, no less.

Which was technically true. But she knew deep down that the Phantom, her angel, was not a bad person. Life had not been kind to him, and somehow he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. With a bad temper.

_But I can help him. He needs me._  
>Raoul didn't need her. He had money, a title, a handsome face…any other woman would love a chance to be his wife. But Christine didn't love him. Not any more than she would a brother. He was her childhood friend, nothing more. Somehow it had taken this night of deception and threats to make her realize how wrong she'd been. About everything.<p>

The water was cold, but it was only up to her knees. They hadn't gotten very far. She headed towards the stone edge of the lake as quickly as she could in her mostly-drenched state.

Raoul was shouting something, but she blocked him out. She had someone else on her mind.

Pulling herself up from the water, she tried to remember which direction the Phantom had gone.

**XxxX**

She is gone. Music. Light. Happiness. Life.  
>Gone.<p>

He never should have let himself hope for a happy ending. With his past…how could the future be any less than agonizing?

And yet…she had kissed him. Twice. In that moment, it had almost seemed like she had wanted to stay. That she could love him.

But that was a delusion.

Anything she did was out of desperation, to save her fiancé's life.  
>She was the epitome of goodness. So selfless. Sacrificing herself to save that ignorant boy. He had to let her go; anything else would have been utterly criminal. He couldn't deprive the world of someone so full of light.<br>It was his only way to make amends for all the things he had done to ruin her life.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,  
>And I will save you from you solitude…"<em>

It pained him to hear Christine singing to her fop. But her voice was just as beautiful as ever.

_Why does is sound as if her voice is getting nearer…?_

"_Say you'll need me with you now, and always…"_

He sensed movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head to see a lovely young woman with dark curls and warm brown eyes standing hesitantly before him. Her face was flushed but her eyes were bright. She seemed…anxious.

"_Anywhere you go let me go, too…"_

He couldn't quote believe his eyes. _Why is Christine here, in my room, and not with her precious fop?_  
><em>Why has she come back?<em>

He couldn't comprehend why she would willingly return to his presence, but he wasn't going to waste his last chance at a proper goodbye.  
>"<em>Christine, I love you."<em>

She smiled and nodded slightly from her position in the doorway. "We must hurry. The mob is on its way. I assume you have some sort of secret escape route..?"

_We? _He was utterly baffled, and it must have shown on his face.

"I really don't have time to explain. Quickly, gather anything you will need. We must leave."

He couldn't quite think clearly with Christine holding her hand out to him expectantly, but he tried to regain his composure. At least until they could escape.

Her dress and legs were dripping with water. She was probably freezing. He grabbed one of his old cloaks from a small wardrobe in the corner and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thank you." She pulled it tight around her to block out the cold while he retrieved his own cloak from where he had tossed it earlier.

"I don't need anything else. Follow me."

**XxxX**

Christine was completely lost. The Phantom had smashed a mirror, revealing a passageway not unlike the one behind the large mirror in her dressing room. After turning to make sure a cloth was covering the entrance so they would not be followed, the Phantom took her hand and started off through the tunnels.

They had been walking for ten minutes now, down corridors that all looked the same to her (besides the occasional sloping walkway), making so many turns she was beginning to become disoriented. But the warmth of her angel's hand around her own kept her stable.

Eventually they came to a dead end. There was some sort of metal grate in the wall above their heads, and she could see the flicker of lanterns from the other side.

"We are several streets away from the Opera House. In an alley. Once we get out into the street, keep your head down. I have a small house nearby."

It was the first time he had spoken since they began their journey. Christine simply nodded in understanding and then watched him lift the bars out of the opening.

**XxxX**

_What did I ever do to deserve her company? _He was baffled that she had come with him at all.

He had lifted up through the opening in the wall and then climbed out after her, replacing the metal bars to hide their escape. They had hurried through the streets with their hoods covering their faces, his arm around her so they wouldn't be separated.

The "house" was really no more than a small shack, only meant as a temporary hideout. It was sparsely furnished- just a table and a chair, a small cupboard, and a long settee that served as a bed for him during his stays. He was slightly embarrassed that they couldn't sit at the table and talk, but he had never meant for anyone to come here but himself. And really, who would he have brought?

He had offered the settee to Christine as a place to sleep for the night, and chose to spend the night in the chair. He wasn't put out in the least; Christine's comfort was more important than his own, and there was no possible way he would have been able to sleep with her there, anyway.

But when he started to seat himself at the table, Christine insisted that he sit on the settee with her. "It's your house, you should be comfortable. And we can talk more easily if you are here next to me."

He sat on the settee hesitantly, as far from her as was possible, hoping not to make her uncomfortable. She didn't object, so he settled in and looked at her expectantly.

She was fiddling with the fabric of her borrowed cloak, her head down. Several times she would open her mouth as if to speak, but then she would meet his eyes, blush, and look away. She didn't seem to know where to start.

Since it was obvious they were getting nowhere, the Phantom decided to attempt conversation himself.

"Christine...what…..…how…" He now understood her inability to speak, since he was suffering from the same problem. He cleared his throat and began again. "Christine, why did you return to me?"

**XxxX**

Christine wasn't ready to have this conversation. Not really. But she knew she had an obligation to explain their current situation. To compromise, she started with the question that had been clouding her mind.

"Angel, why did you send me away? You asked me to choose, so I did. But you made me go with Raoul…"

She said this without looking his way, knowing he was probably staring at her.

He took in a shaky breath, steeling himself. "It was wrong of me to do that to you. Make you choose. You and…your fiancé…should be together. I had no right to try and drag you apart, I'm so sorry. Something just snapped and I couldn't…I couldn't lose you." By the end, his voice was shaking and she could see the moisture welling in his eyes.

Suddenly she knew just what to do. To repair his broken heart, to explain her feelings, to make things right between them.

"Angel, you have been a big part of my life since I was young. You were my closest friend, someone with whom I could share my troubles. You helped me through the death of my father and gave me my voice. I owe you so much. You were always there to comfort me, and I wasn't there for you. Not when you needed me. So it's my turn to take care of you." She finally lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

Tears were streaming silently down his face, but his look of confusion was still prominent.

She was suddenly filled with resolve. "Angel, come here."

She pulled him to her, so that he was lying across the settee with his upper torso in her lap.

**XxxX**

_What is she doing? She must know how much her very presence affects me…and yet she willingly holds me like this…_

She carefully removed his mask, ignoring his attempts to stop her. Holding his bare face between her hands, she finally said what he had been hoping for all this time.

"This. This is the face of the man I love. And I don't care if it's not 'perfect' to the rest of the world…to me, it is."

His was overwhelmed with his love for her; he was drowning in a happiness that he still didn't quite believe was real. _This must be some sort of dream. The only other explanation is that I'm dead. The gendarmes found me beneath the opera and took my life, and now I'm in heaven._

_But that can't be it! A creature like me would never have made it past the gates…._

He was interrupted in his frantic thoughts by Christine's voice. As she sang, she still held his marred face, and looked into his eyes lovingly.

"_Laying alone with the history that made you_  
><em>cold and uncertain inside…<em>  
><em>Well careful now, deep breath;<em>  
><em>the water's still rising,<em>  
><em>But your silver lining's in sight<em>

_When you feel like you're breaking down_  
><em>And your body's just giving in<em>  
><em>And you can't go on broken like this<em>  
><em>Any longer<em>

_Close your eyes, don't you cry;_  
><em>let the sorrow within you subside.<em>  
><em>Don't despair, have no fear;<em>  
><em>give your weight to me when you hear<em>  
><em>This lullaby<em>

He closed his eyes and let himself believe that she really did love him. He was so overcome with emotions, and her beautiful voice was still singing him to sleep.

_You say all seems so wrong with the life that you're living,  
>you're searching for some reason why.<br>You're so scared to trust; you're feeling unworthy,  
>aching for comfort tonight.<em>

_When your heart's too sore to beat_  
><em>And you fear it might never heal<em>  
><em>And you feel not even beggars want you…<em>  
><em>I do.<em>

_Close your eyes, don't you cry;  
>let the sorrow within you subside.<br>Don't despair, have no fear;  
>give your weight to me when you hear<br>This lullaby"_

He felt her tears before he even realized that she was crying. Somehow she didn't let it affect her singing.  
>Worried, he looked up at her with an unspoken question in his eyes. <em>Are you all right?<em>

She smiled through her tears and nodded. "Go to sleep, Angel. I'll be here when you wake."

And with that, he closed his eyes again as she finished his lullaby. He was asleep before the final note.

"_Close your eyes, don't you cry;  
>let the sorrow within you subside.<br>Don't despair, have no fear;  
>give your weight to me when you hear<br>This lullaby_

_Don't you cry, let the darkness within you feel alive.  
>Don't despair, have no fear;<br>you'll find comfort in me like a child  
>with this lullaby…<em>

_Don't you cry…_

_Close your eyes..."_

* * *

><p><strong>This song is called "Lullaby", in case you hadn't guessed. It was written and sung by Emmy Rossum, the young woman who portrayed Christine Daaé in Andrew Lloyd Webber's <strong>_**Phantom of the Opera **_**film in 2004. Whenever I hear it, I can't help but think of how perfectly this fits the Phantom. I hope you enjoyed this. Please review!**


	2. Revelations

**A/N: I decided to continue this, but I don't want it to turn into a really long thing. Since it's my first fic here, I'm going to keep it to just two or three chapters. Anyway, please read and enjoy! **

**UPDATE: I made some minor edits to this chapter, just fixing some sentence structure here and there. If you've already read this chapter, you probably don't need to read it again because the changes aren't _that _obvious…but feel free if you want to remind yourself of what's going on.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Revelations<em>**

The Phantom woke the next morning feeling refreshed and energized for the first time in years. He had no doubt of the reason for his restful night: the beautiful angel curled up beside him.  
>As he gazed upon her face, noting how peaceful she looked while asleep, he was suddenly perplexed as to how she had gotten her legs out from beneath him.<p>

The last thing he remembered was the warmth of her touch as she sang, him pillowed on her lap. Being the first time he had ever been held that close by anyone, he was fairly certain he was not mistaken in that fact. Yet she had somehow managed to lift him off of her legs and slide him over slightly so she could lie beside him, cocooned between his body and the back of the settee, all without waking him.

This confusing revelation was forgotten when he once again realized what had happened the night before. _Christine. _My _Christine came back for me. She told me she _loved _me, distorted face and all, then sang me to sleep and held me in her arms…._

He had never been so overwhelmed in his life. The Phantom wrapped his arms around her, hoping for a few more minutes of peaceful slumber, and drifted back to sleep.

**XxxX**

Christine immediately noticed the lack of his warmth when she awoke a few hours later. Panic rippled through her as she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, but her mind insisted on torturing her instead.

_He's left you, you sill girl. Did you really think he would stay? He waited for you to fall asleep so he could disappear without a trace. He obviously decided he didn't want a young, flustering girl bothering him any longer._

Their shared moment the night before seemed very insignificant in the harsh light of day.

She sat up, taking in every inch of the small shack, hoping for a sign that he would return. Her eyes roamed over the dusty floors, the small singular window with dirty glass and a tattered curtain, the chair and table with rickety legs- really the only item in the room still in good condition was the sofa on which she was planted- and then she saw it. A small scrap of paper with _Christine _written on it in his flowing script.

She hurried to the table and snatched it up before it vanished just as easily as he had.

_My dearest Christine,_

_I have gone to find us some provisions for the day. I will be back shortly, I promise. In the meantime, make yourself at home._

_All my love._

That was all it said, but she was calmed instantly. Her angel hadn't left her after all! She cursed her traitorous mind for conjuring up such pain needlessly.

She returned to her comfortable perch on the cushions, clutching his note, and prepared to wait. She was a little upset he had gone off on his own, instead of waking her to accompany him. _'Make yourself at home'? What does he expect me to do, knit a sweater?_

**XxxX**

The Phantom breezed through the alleys around the market, only venturing into the busy throng from around corners- taking what items he needed from the stalls and tables and leaving payment in their place –before dissolving back into the shadows. No one seemed to notice his presence.

The sun was high, but it did little to warm the late winter day. Since he spent most days below ground, time seemed to slip between his fingers so easily. He would stock up on supplies for himself, spend what felt like hours working on his music or designing some new mansion he would never see built, and the next thing he knew a month had passed. He was quite sure Christine could never live like that. _I don't even know what day it is…_

As he "shopped", he hummed to himself, unconsciously recalling the notes from the lullaby Christine had sung for him. His mood was miraculously lightened by the mere thought of her waiting patiently for him. He felt as light as air, buoyant, even as he skulked between buildings like the phantom he was.

When he had woken earlier, he knew he had to procure some food for himself and his lovely student. After a few marvelously pleasant minutes of basking in her embrace, he reluctantly extracted himself and prepared to leave. He retrieved his mask from where it had been abandoned on the floor, pulled on his boots, and wrote the note for Christine to find. Before he left he made sure she was covered warmly in the cloak he had given her and leaned down to plant a soft kiss in her hair.

He tried to pick foods he knew Christine would like- apples, bread and cheese. Other than the essentials, he wasn't really aware of what else she liked to eat. A frown settled over his features as he thought about what else he didn't know about Christine. Her favorite color, which season she preferred, even, he realized with a start, her middle name. Somehow even with the years of tutoring and watching over his beloved angel, he had missed so much.

His stomach lurched when he thought of all the things his sweet Christine didn't know about him. _She said she loved me…but would she still if she knew of my horrid past?_

A commotion in the market broke him from his reverie. A small boy was shouting and chasing after a dog who didn't want to be caught. Barking and crashing and cries of protest from angry shopkeepers wafted to the Phantom.

Suddenly, the frantic animal came barreling through the very alley where he was standing. Which meant the boy wouldn't be far behind.

The Phantom ran in the same direction the animal had gone- deeper into the labyrinth between buildings- before peeling off into a side alley. He twisted through the gaps, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the boy. After a few minutes he was satisfied that he wasn't seen or followed.

Slowing, he checked over what he had gathered. There seemed to be plenty for two days, at least, so he decided it was time to return to Christine. But not before stopping off at a small clothing shop…

**XxxX**

After what seemed like days, although she knew it was only a few hours at most, Christine heard a key being inserted into the front door. She flew to the window and pulled back the worn curtain, just to make certain that it was her Angel returning to her. He had barely opened the door when she threw herself into his arms.

"Finally!" she exclaimed with delight, "I was beginning to worry if you'd ever return!" Her eyes were shining when she pulled away. After a moment, she blushed and dropped he arms from around him. _How foolish and impulsive of me. He probably thinks me mad._

His face lit up with the most genuine smile.

"No need to fret, I'm back, as you can see. And I've brought something for you." From behind his back came the most gorgeous blue dress she had ever seen. It was velvet, and had long sleeves with cut-outs on the shoulders.

"Oh, thank you so much, I love it! Where did you get it?"

"There was a small dress shop along the way. The owner stepped into the back to check on something, so I took the opportunity to pick this out. Don't worry," he said, noticing the disapproving look in her eye, "I did pay for it. And more than was asked."

Her features relaxed again.

"I'm glad you are pleased with it," he continued, "I assumed it would be able to keep you warm in this frightful weather. And, I thought you would be wanting to change out of…" He trailed off, gesturing to the previously sodden wedding gown he had forced on her, uncomfortable with the memories it brought with it.

"Yes…thank you angel." Christine took the dress from his hands.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as they both reminisced on the events that led them here.

Finally, the Phantom cleared his throat to break the tension.

"I've brought some food," he said cautiously, unnerved by their previous silence. He placed the burlap sack containing said foodstuffs on the table. "But…I can…step out if you want to change. Just call me when you are finished."

"That would be nice, thank you."

He left unceremoniously, pulling the door shut behind him.

**XxxX**

"Idiot, Idiot, IDIOT! Why did you bring up that whole unfortunate affair? It would be better for us both to just put it behind us."

The Phantom paced the small clearing surrounding the shack, lost in thought. "And now you're talking to yourself again, fantastic." He heaved a sigh of frustration, kicking a rock into a nearby tree. A small chunk of bark broke off and fell to the ground in its wake.

_Where do we go from here? Last night- in spite of my ridiculous schemes- was wonderful, but the situation feels so different now. It's a brand new day, and I am in no way certain of Christine's feelings. I wonder what she is thinking…_

He glanced unconsciously towards the shabby building, only to jerk his attention away immediately.  
>Christine had forgotten to close the curtains.<p>

Luckily for his overactive hormones, he had only caught a brief glimpse of a small portion of her upper back and bare arm. It took all his will power to keep his eyes focused resolutely in the opposite direction.

**XxxX**

_I wish I had a mirror._

Christine ran her hands along the sleeve of her new garment, enjoying its warm softness. _How nice of him to buy me such a lovely dress. I'll have to pay him back somehow._

The brief tension between them earlier was heavy on her mind. She longed to find some way to return to the atmosphere of last night. The warmth of his gaze on her face, the feeling of complete and utter _rightness _as she fell asleep beside him…

Christine wanted more than anything for the pieces to fall into place perfectly. _I just want him to be _happy_ for once. I want him to be happy with me._

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she opened the door. "Angel? I'm finished, you can come back inside."

**XxxX**

"How did you know blue was my favorite color?"

Surprise flashed across his face before settling into what he hoped was a look of nonchalance. "I just had a feeling about it. Really it was just a happy coincidence." He was secretly glad to have one less mystery between them.

"It looks wonderful on you," he intoned sincerely. She really did look stunning.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she said with a slight bow of her head. A deep blush colored her cheeks, making her all the more adorable in his eyes.

_Monsieur…? _That was a change from how she usually addressed hm. He let the matter fall from his thoughts. It wasn't important.

He set out a small meal of bread and fruit for them, then ventured outside once more to fill a pitcher with water from the nearby stream.

For lack of another chair, they simply sat again on the settee to eat. As they were finishing, Christine looked over at him, and asked a question that he was not prepared for.

"I never even thought to ask…but what is your proper name? I can't go on calling you 'Angel'; I know you are a man just like any other."

_My name? I haven't heard it in so long…it's too closely linked with my unhappy childhood._

One look into her eyes calmed him immediately. Well, it caused his heart to pound for quite another reason, anyway. _Those beautiful brown eyes…so deep and trusting._ He knew he couldn't deny her anything, not even this closely guarded secret.

"Erik," he managed to choke out hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again.  
>"Erik. My name is Erik."<p>

He waited anxiously for her response.

"Erik…" Her eyebrows dipped in concentration. She seemed to be weighing the sound of it in her mind."It's beautiful. And I think it suits you perfectly."

His mouth twisted up into another bright smile as his heart leapt in his chest. The tenderness he heard in her voice…the way she spoke his given name was almost a caress, soothing all the hurt he previously associated with it.

A silence settled between them, but it was far from uncomfortable.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he gently pulled Christine to face him. He reached up to brush a stray curl behind her ear before cupping her cheeks between his hands and rubbing small circles into her skin with his thumbs. Her chocolate brown eyes widened at the look of intense longing in his.

"_Christine…" _he said her name in a whisper and watched the blood rush to her face once more. She was so beautiful!

And then he was lowering his lips to hers, kissing her softly at first, until her hands came up to twist in his hair. With a moan he deepened the kiss. The mask was pulled gently from his face, and Christine caressed his deformity with the lightest of touches. His arms wound around her waist and held her to his body, refusing to leave any space between them. The moment was so perfect and happy that he couldn't help laughing lightly against her lips. He felt her smile in return.

After a moment they broke away, each breathing heavily. They sat transfixed, simply staring into each other's eyes. The warmth and adoration Erik saw in Christine's gaze finally drove home the reality to his soul: _She loves me. Against all the odds, she actually loves me!_

**XxxX**

They spent the rest of the day talking and basking in each other's presence. Erik learned that Christine loved the spring and that her middle name was Elise. _Christine Elise Daaé. _A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

Christine managed to pry a few small details about Erik's life from him. Like the name of his beloved pet dog from when he was a boy: Sasha. She thought it sweet that he teared up at the memory of her death.

The sun was setting once again when he thought of another question.

"That lullaby you sang for me last night…was it something your father used to sing to you when you were young?" Erik's question caught her off guard and she answered without thinking.

"No, father would mostly play his violin to help me sleep, or sing an old Swedish folk song. The lullaby…I wrote it for you. I'm not as skilled as you are with composing music, so I never recorded the notes on paper. Maybe you could help with that?"

A hitching sob was her only response.

She turned in his arms to see tears streaming down his face. "Erik, are you alright?"

"You wrote a…song…for me?" He was obviously very surprised. And smiling. The tears he shed were happy ones, she was relieved to note.

"Yes, of course. You were a major part of my life, Erik. And you always seemed so distant... I wanted to cheer you up, but never got a chance to sing it for you at the Opera House before-"

He captured her lips with his, effectively silencing her explanation.

When again they parted, breathless, he asked "What do you want to do tomorrow? We have the whole world at our feet."

She held her left hand up before his face and wiggled her fingers, the fading light glittering off of the diamond on her finger filling the room with reflected stars. _She still wears my ring? I must have been blind not to notice. But that means…_

"The world will have to wait, Erik, I believe we have a prior engagement."

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think? Please leave a review and tell me if I should continue for another chapter or two. I would love to hear any suggestions or constructive criticism from you all. Thanks for reading!<strong>


	3. Demons

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the delay, but my internet's been in and out for a bit. Good news, though- I think I've finally got the storyline for this down. Now ****I ****can continue on without wondering where the heck I'm going with all of this…which also means this story will be totaling about 8-10 chapters :D **

**Much thanks goes to my amazing new consulting beta, MadameGiry25.**

**There's a bunch of you guys who put this story on alert or added it to you favorites; it's awesome to know you guys are enjoying this. But I have to give a special shout out to…**

**My reviewers: thank you **_**so much**_** for your comments! **AliceKettle**, **PhanForLife**, and **Endor Solo -**they mean a lot and remind me to keep working on this story.**

**P.S. If you haven't yet, go back and reread the first two chapters. They've been edited a little with help from my beta.**

**P.P.S. Moving forward, I'll try to update at least every two weeks or so (but I won't make any promises because of random school stuff that tries to sabotage me…)**

**Rambly author's note is rambly…sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a little longer than the others :)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Demons<strong>_

All throughout their small breakfast, Erik was dreading bringing up his plans for the day.

They had been discussing the merits of the cello vs. the violin; with Christine opining that while the violin's bright tone was beautiful, it simply couldn't surpass the cello's warm, emotional timbre.

"Although…I do love the violin as well. I'll never forget the sound of my father playing late at night when he thought I was asleep." Erik almost suggested that she only preferred the cello now because its sound was so similar to his voice, but that might have been wishful thinking on his part.

Everything was so calm and serene in this house, the world and its troubles seemed so very far away with Christine smiling and talking with him. Just ordinary chitchat about trivial matters. It was heavenly.  
>But it wasn't meant to last. If Christine sincerely wanted to marry him (as she had insisted several times throughout the morning), there were things that would have to be taken care of first. Not the least of which would be finding a priest willing to marry them. He allowed his mind to wander, no longer as absorbed in whatever subject Christine had moved onto.<p>

With a sigh, he finally opened his mouth to explain his musings.

"Christine-"

"Is everything all right, Erik? You're pacing again."

_Am I? _He forced himself to stop and breathe. Usually being interrupted was a great annoyance to him, but hearing her speak his name in that caressing tone again…

His mouth briefly twitched into a grin until the delicacy of the subject before him sobered his features once more.

"Yes, Christine. Everything is fine. There is just something I would like to discuss with you..."

Her raised eyebrows and captive expression told him to get on with it before he chickened out.

"I need to go back to the Opera."

Surprise. Concern. Hurt. These emotions and others he couldn't identify passed over her features, before she settled on confusion.

"But…why?" There was a slight tremor in her voice.

_Ah…I should have said that differently. _He hurried to correct the misunderstanding.

"I'm not leaving you, at least not in the way you are afraid of. I just need to visit my lair and retrieve some of my belongings." When they had left, he hadn't been expecting to be in Christine's presence for very long, much less in Paris. He grudgingly admitted to himself that having Christine willingly come back to him had muffled his normally-racing mind.

He had been planning on leaving everything behind, hoping time and distance would wash that portion of his existence from memory.

Of course, fate was a tricky thing. It had messed with his entire life and now seemed bent on allowing him this happiness. All of those years of isolation and bitterness… he wasn't used to such good fortune. But if this was to be his lot, he would not squander it.

One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.

**XxxX**

Her heart had regained its normal rhythm, but Christine was still worried about Erik's plan to revisit the smoldering remains of the Opera House.

"What of the gendarmes? They will surely be on the lookout. Not to mention the building could collapse and crush you inside! And what about…" Her face went white.

"The _Vicomte_?" Erik finished with a sneer. His face was suddenly dark.

_Raoul_. How did she forget him so quickly? Her childhood friend who braved the rough waters in Perros to fetch her scarf…It seemed a lifetime ago. She didn't feel anything for him except a loss of friendship. Her mind finally understood what true love felt like.

"Well, yes. I left rather abruptly with no real explanation. He will still be trying to find us, I know it." She bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat. _We were having such a nice conversation…how does Raoul continue to get between us like this?_

"I would assume that your former suitor thinks us long gone by now. And why shouldn't he? Fleeing usually implies a leaving of the country." He had returned to his previous tone: no barely concealed anger, just a stating of the facts. "And he knows me as the Phantom- all but invisible. Really, if I had tried, we could have been in Italy by now!" He chuckled and the slight tension in the air dissipated.

Christine smiled, glad that his good humor had returned. "Well…alright. You won't be gone long, will you? It makes me anxious when you are not here with me."

Erik joined her on the settee and wrapped his long arms around her. She felt safe in his arms. Something she hadn't really experienced since childhood, with her father.

_Has Erik always been this…solid? _Christine found herself preoccupied with the feeling of his body so close to her. _He was always tall and thin, but is that…muscle?_ Her cheeks burned as she thought of why he would have wanted to make himself stronger.

_For me. He wanted to be strong so that I would find him attractive. _He must have been subconsciously competing with Raoul long before their open rivalry began. She almost asked him about this, but decided better of it.

He continued on, unaware of her musings.

"I'll be fine Christine. I promise to be careful and hurry back. I just want to get my music and perhaps a change of clothes. And if he hasn't run off, I'll bring Cesar. He'll be invaluable. I don't know how I managed to forget him…" He trailed off and glanced down at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

Christine had a sneaking suspicion that she was the reason for his forgetfulness. She looked away again, embarrassed but slightly proud that her very presence had such an effect on him.

He cleared his throat and continued. "Was there anything you wanted me to get for you? Something might have survived the fire…I can check your old dressing room if you like?"

_My old room…_she imagined the rosy walls and the lovely old dressing table, the large mirror where she had seem her angel for the first time- when she still hadn't realized that he was a mortal man. She honestly thought the Angel of Music had simply projected an image of himself on her mirror. But then it had opened, and her whole life had changed.

"There's not much, really. Just my hairbrush. It belonged to my mother…it's the only thing I have of her."

Erik's voice softened in response to her shift in mood. "Of course."

She suddenly gasped. "My father's picture! It was in the chapel. It was probably safe from the fire there." Her eyes were bright, happy that she would have a piece of both her parents when she started her new life.

The emotion in his voice when he replied was evident.

"I'll find it, I promise."

**XxxX**

Erik felt awful. Even as he bade goodbye to his beautiful companion, promising a swift return, his heart broke for everything he had done to her. Before he left he had forced a smile and kissed her forehead, then disappeared into the forest before she could see the darkness swirling in his eyes.

As he jogged back toward town, dodging trees and trying to keep as silent as possible, he let his mind wander through the past.

At first, his intentions had been innocent. Noble, even. He had heard her cries in the small Opera chapel, calling out to her "Papa" and someone called the "Angel of Music", and for the first time in years he felt something. A stirring deep inside him. Pity, compassion, caring for another human being. Not really something he had ever expected to feel.

So he had reached out to the poor child. Became the Angel she wished for and helped her to find her voice, her calling.

But even that had been selfish, he now realized.

He had lied to her. Claimed to be an angel when he was anything but. Pushed her to become a singer, taken her sweet voice into his soul and made it a part of him. He had become enthralled by its beauty, enchanted at the music that this young girl brought into his life. She had given him a purpose again and become the only inspiration for his music.

And then she had grown up.

He tried to ignore it. Told himself he was just imagining it. Hoped that it would pass…

But no, the wonderful child who filled his life with music and laughter had become a young woman whose every word was like a breath a fresh air in his stifling life. Every moment he spent with her made his heart swell and filled him with hope for an impossible future.

And he slowly became captive to her, losing all semblance of sanity in his desire to be everything in her life.

Became jealous, possessive, controlling, and if it were possible, more impulsive than ever before.

And after everything, when he finally realized what he had become and let her go, it was too late. He had burned her home to the ground, along with its memories and the only life she had ever known.

He wasn't a monster, he was a _demon_. Those gypsies were right- he truly was the Devil's child.

The trees gave way to buildings and streets as he reached the outskirts of Paris. He returned to the alleys and did what he did best- vanish.

**XxxX**

Meg Giry heard a knock at the door.

"I'll see who it is, Mama."

"Thank you, dear. If you need me I'm in the kitchen."

Meg had a feeling she knew who was waiting behind the door, and she wasn't too happy to see him again. The man had been pestering her mother for days.

With a sigh, she opened the door and stared blankly at the man before her. "Vicomte."

"Hello again, Mademoiselle. May I speak with your mother?" Raoul de Chagny's calm tone was betrayed by his slightly unkempt hair and the wild look in his eyes. But a man of his upbringing would never allow his distress to affect his manners. They had been ground into him from a young age, she knew.

Meg had a strong urge to shut the door in his face, but that would be an unbelievable breach of courtesy. Her mother would scold her for being rude and insist she pay the Vicomte a visit to apologize. It wasn't a good idea to be on bad terms with an influential family like Raoul's.

Besides, she didn't really hate him. Quite the opposite, in fact. She thought he was very polite and handsome. It was just her loyalty to Christine that caused her resentment. She had known from the beginning that Christine was in love with her tutor. Even when she had thought Christine mad for believing in the Angel of Music, there was no denying the connection she seemed to have with him. And Raoul's involvement only increased the stress around the Opera House, for the Phantom's mood affected every part of the performances.

"I'll see if she's available." She motioned toward the sitting room. De Chagny nodded in thanks and went to take his seat.

Her mother spoke before she had even fully entered the kitchen.

"It's that boy again, isn't it?"

"Of course. I don't think he can stand to sit at home with his smug older brother. From what I've heard, Phillipe has an extreme case of the 'I-told-you-so's." Meg rolled her eyes.

"Well, that attitude certainly won't help anyone. I'll go see what he wants this time."

**XxxX**

Erik had reached the Opera without incident, finding his way inside the same way he had left with Christine.

His first venture was upstairs to his protégé's dressing room. To his surprise and delight, the room had been barely touched by the flames' destruction. The walls around the door were warped and blackened, but otherwise it seemed untouched. He quickly found the brush in the drawer of Christine's vanity. It handle was worn with age and use, the paint barely visible. But there was no denying the subtle grace of its design. It was carved from a single piece of thick wood, engraved and decorated simply but beautifully. Perfect for his Christine. He placed it carefully inside the sack he had brought and decided to check the armoire for any dresses still intact.

His next stop was the Opera chapel downstairs. He wasn't surprised to find it in perfect condition. The stone walls were all but invincible against the heat and flames.

He knelt beside the small altar Christine had made for her father, feeling a sudden reverence for the man. The similarities were obvious- the same dark eyes and hair, a slight smirk playing about his mouth in the photograph. Erik smiled when he thought of the love Christine had for this man. He knew she missed him terribly, and that her childhood with him had been precious to her.

"Gustave Daaé…what would you think if you could see her now?" He was feeling quite sentimental for a man he had never met. Erik respected him greatly, for he had brought Christine up with love, happiness, and music. Setting her up for success so early in her life, laying the foundation for the great triumph her voice became…

Once again Erik was assaulted with guilt. He had poisoned the gift Gustave had given Christine. She had loved to sing with her Papa, that much he knew from her stories. But that had been casual, a shared love for music, something special between father and daughter. Nothing forced upon her, no pressure to become some great diva.

His vision blurred as his eyes filled with moisture, the drops there threatening to fall in torrents unless he could hold them back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He didn't know if he was apologizing to Gustave, Christine, the Girys, even _Raoul,_ or the world in general. He was simply overwhelmed with everything he had done wrong in his life. The regret for those wasted years of running, killing, ruining lives…what kind of man was he?

No twisted face was excuse enough for that. Christine was right earlier, his very _soul _was distorted.

He had collapsed to the hard floor, the cold stone freezing the tears against his face as he sobbed. Never before had he felt so much remorse and crushing grief…

_When your heart's too sore to beat_, a_nd you fear it might never heal,  
>and you feel not even beggars want you…<em>…_I do._

And then, somehow it started to lighten.

_Close your eyes, don't you cry, let the sorrow within you subside…_

The memory of those words gave him a small glimmer of hope.

_Don't despair, have no fear…_

Somehow Christine had been able to forgive him. It was completely baffling, an utter mystery that she would be able to do that after what he put her through.

Maybe she saw something in him…

_What is _that? Erik heard a voice…or maybe he felt it. It was quiet, but it was there.

"She loves you, you ridiculous, foolheaded, man. Just how thick are you? She loves you, she really does. Despite your past, despite your face, despite society's prejudices…despite everything.  
>Against all the odds.<p>

Christine has a very big heart; she is capable of so much love and forgiveness. That is just who she is. I wish I could say I had a part in that, but I wasn't always there for her…maybe _you_ had a small part in that. Regardless, she has grown into a strong and beautiful young woman, and I'm _so proud_ of her.

And no matter what you think of yourself…you've proven yourself worthy in Christine's eyes. And I would be remiss if I didn't appreciate how happy you've made her…"

_Gustave? This is madness…my mind is playing tricks on me again._ Even if it was an illusion, the voice of Christine's lost father, Erik didn't mind it. The words calmed him instantly.

"Be at peace, Erik. Don't let your past ruin your future. Take care of her, cherish her,  
>and never take her for granted, my <em>son…"<em>

The words faded into nothing and Erik was left with a rush of warmth, acceptance, love, and _forgiveness._ He wasn't sure where it came from, but his soul finally felt a release from everything that had been holding it down, chaining it to guilt and bitterness. He felt lighter, like he could float right through the floors of the Opera House above him, right into the clouds. He felt like laughing, the joy was so great.

He was _free._

He finally realized that the past couldn't hold him any longer. He needed to let it go if he wanted to move on with his life. And really, he wasn't that man any more. Christine had healed the resentment and anger inside him with her love, and _now he had the approval of her father…? _

He picked himself off the floor, retrieving the photograph of Gustave Daaé, and turned to go to the cellars of the Opera House. He still wasn't quite sure what had just happened…but he was never more ready to begin his new life with Christine.

Even as the shadows of the tunnel swallowed him up, he couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

**XxxX**

The sound of footsteps outside made her jump up from her perch on the settee and fly to the door. In her excitement, she didn't even check who it was approaching before flinging open the door; much to the surprise of the man whose hand was raised to knock.

It was not Erik.

The surprise on the man's face changed to delight when he saw who had opened the door.

"Ah, it seems Madame Giry was correct after all. Good afternoon…"

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh, that was mean of me. A cliffhanger.<strong>

**Just a note, the Erik in my story is a mixture of the Phantom from ALW's movie and the Phantom of Susan Kay's novel. He's got a Kay backstory, but with the iconic half-mask and friendship with Mme. Giry we're all so accustomed to. Technically, you don't **_**need**_** to have read Kay's story to understand this one, but it's a really good book to read regardless.**

**The quote "One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel" is from Doctor Who, episode 2x04.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, please, **_**please **_**review. It really is a huge motivator for me to write faster. Any advice, critiques, criticism, **_**anything**_** is appreciated!**


	4. Reunions

**Ah, hello. *sheepish wave* It's been a bit longer than two weeks. I've been busy annoying my new brother-in-law…**

**I've also been soaking up inspiration from various sources. One of which was**_** Love Never Dies**_**. It was amazing. I wasn't really sold on the storyline originally (I thought it was kind of cheesy), but the execution of it was **_**fantastic**_**. I was humming the music all the way home. If you get a chance to see it live or even the recording of it (like I did), DO IT. Even if you don't like the idea of a Phantom sequel, it's worth it. I promise.**

**I've also been rereading some of my favorite phanfics that inspired me to write in the first place. Most importantly, I read back over the last few chapters of Susan Kay's **_**Phantom**_**, which I have decided is absolutely necessary reading for any Phan. I always end up sobbing when I read it, and that is a stunning accomplishment.**

**Anyways…sorry, but you're going to have to hold out for a resolution to that cliffhanger for a bit. The majority of this chapter follows Erik. **

**FYI: As you have probably noticed, XxxX indicates a point-of-view shift. For this chapter and beyond, **xXx **will signal some sort of time lapse, while staying in the same point of view.**

**Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Reunions<strong>_

The state of his lair was disheartening. There were tattered fabrics strewn about, broken furniture, and papers of all sorts littered the floor. The only consolation for this destruction was the sight of his nearly-untouched organ. He had no idea why they had decided to leave it alone amidst the ruin, but he was certainly thankful for it.

Of course, there was no way he would be able to take the thing with him. He sighed as he realized that he would probably never compose there again. He recalled countless hours spent seated at that bench, trying to get a song _just right_. Those times when everything seemed to be falling apart around him, and he buried himself in _Don Juan Triumphant_- letting all of the pent-up emotions drain onto his red-ink-stained pages.

This cavern held his entire life.

As he searched the wreckage for compositions or sketches of value, he began humming a new melody- a song for his new life with Christine. It helped to keep his spirits up even as he dug through the ruins of his life. The humming led to whistling, and this carefree musical expression made him stop and chuckle at himself. _Look at the mysterious Phantom of the Opera whistling while tidying up a mess. Oh how the mighty have fallen!_

Erik found a leather notebook and filled it with the papers he gathered and then ventured to his bedroom to gather a few changes of clothing and two extra masks. _I'm nothing if not prepared._

As a final precaution, he checked the small kitchen down a side tunnel. He had never kept it fully stocked- he often forgot to eat for days on end- but decided it was worth a try. He found an almost-stale loaf of bread, a handful of tea leaves, and two bottles of his favorite wine-Cabernet Sauvignon- which he realized were too expensive (and frankly, too fantastic) to leave behind.

Once his bags were thoroughly stuffed, he set off through the labyrinth to his hidden stable for Cesar. It shared a stone wall with the much larger stable of the Opera Populaire, with a thin opening running along the very top. Cesar had always been quite adept at stealth, and because of his silent nature, Erik knew it was safe to grant his beloved horse this bit of fresh air and light.

After greeting his equine companion (and getting a friendly nudge of welcome in return), Erik saddled him up and loaded him down with bags.

"You know, Cesar, I haven't had the chance to take you out for a run in quite a while. Lucky for you, I'm in a hurry to get back to the cottage. Someone very important is there, and I mustn't keep her waiting long. It would be downright rude."

He chatted amiably with Cesar as he led him to the false wall around the corner. There, what appeared to be a solid wood wall from the other side was actually a heavily-fortified door. After Erik checked to make sure the Opera stable was empty, he unlocked the many bolts and led Cesar out into the shade of the structure.

He was just coming around the corner of an alley when he ran into Madame Giry.

"Antoinette? What are you doing here?"

"Erik! I'm so glad to see you about and looking well," she smoothed her skirts and cleared her throat before continuing. "I was actually hoping I would find you here. We need to talk."

"What about? I really should be getting back…I've been gone longer than I originally intended."

"Is Christine staying with you?"

His face became hard as he tried to figure out her intentions.

"Erik, you can tell me. I'm only worried for her welfare. I haven't heard from her since…" She looked down, uncomfortable with discussion of the disaster. From the look on Erik's face, he didn't want to talk about it either. "…and the Vicomte has been visiting to beg me for information nonstop."

Erik scowled. "That fool."

"I just want to know that she is safe, and that she is happy,"

"What, you think I kidnapped her? No, she came with me voluntarily…which frankly, I'm just beginning to believe myself. It is certainly more than I could have hoped for."

Madame Giry's face relaxed, and she smiled. "I'm happy for you Erik, really. I know this will be good for you both. I always had a feeling…"

Erik made a funny sort of snort-like noise in his throat. "Yes, the wise Madame Giry knows all…" He chuckled before sobering somewhat. "But thank you, Antoinette. You've been a good friend and a wonderful parental figure for Christine. I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done for us both."

"Just take care of her, Erik. She is like a second daughter to me."

"I will. I promise. I _will be _a better man for her." His voice was determined and the air was still as his words set in.

After a moment, Erik saw a strange look flutter over Madame Giry's face. Despite his apathetic feelings towards humanity in general and his voluntary isolation of late, Erik had always been quite adept at reading people. He could see the intentions behind their words and could discern facts about someone just from a few cursory glances that others wouldn't discover even after years of acquaintance.

Madame Giry was hiding something.

"What is it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but something passed over her features again and she closed it. After a beat she started again, seemingly on a different subject than she had originally planned to speak about.

"Erik, the last time the Vicomte came to see me, he finally told me what happened that night. In your home, between the three of you."

His eyes narrowed. "What lies has he been spreading?"

"I don't know if he was telling the truth or not, but I can recount the story as he told it to me. Maybe you can fill in some of the gaps…"

xXx

Raoul de Chagny was sitting on the edge of his seat, nervously bouncing his leg as he waited for me to join him in the sitting room.

"Vicomte, what a pleasure to see you. Again." I kept my tone as polite as I could, but in truth I was growing weary of his constant visits.

He looked up as the subtle iciness of my words washed over him.

"I'm sorry to drop in again, Madame. I am just worried about Christine's welfare. Surely you understand?" I saw the genuine concern in his eyes and sighed as I sat across from him.

Unlike this boy, I knew that wherever Christine was, she was perfectly safe. I knew you would protect her with your life, even though I wasn't sure of the circumstances leading up to your situation.

"Yes, of course. But I can assure you, Vicomte, I do not know their whereabouts."

He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his cravat.

"As you've said before. I believe you, Madame, it's just…I don't understand. What would possess her to go back? She just jumped out of the boat with that look on her face…." His bewilderment was clear in his voice and his eyes.

"Maybe it would help of you told me what happened down there. From the beginning."

_After you left me on the stairs, I continued on but didn't pay close enough attention to where I was going. I fell into some sort of trap and for a moment, I thought I would surely die. My determination to find Christine and rescue her from that madman is all that kept me fighting. I was finally able to turn the release and the gate holding me underwater lifted. It was so cold down there, I don't know how that man…thing could stand it. I was soaked to the skin and trembling when I found my way to the portcullis- the only thing separating me from his lair. _

_They were locked in some sort of discussion, by the look of it. They were standing very close, almost close enough to touch, and Christine was staring up at him with an intensity that entirely excluded me and everything else in the room. She seemed aware of nothing but him: I would have said she was in a state of trance, save for the look in her eyes. That look…it wasn't one of fear, but I couldn't think to classify it otherwise._

_It was he who moved first, turned around and so afforded me a first glimpse of his horrific face. It was disturbing, to say the least, the duality of it. One side perfectly normal, almost handsome even, the other…I shudder to think of it. He addressed me for the first time-_

"_Did you think that I would harm her? Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?" _

_He had lifted the portcullis to allow me entry, only to bind me to it as it closed again. He wrapped that damn noose around my neck and rigged it so that he could torment me with its tightening and loosening at will. He told Christine that she must choose between us…I told her to let him kill me. I couldn't stand to see her throw her life away just to save me. I closed my eyes so as not to see him deliver the ending blow…_

_But she didn't answer him. I opened my eyes to find Christine staring at his face, rapt. And then- my God, it hurts to even say- she kissed that monster. Right in front of me. She said she wanted to show him that he wasn't alone …She kissed him twice. Twice! Even I, her fiancé, she gifted with only a few chaste kisses on the cheek. But that monster….!_

_That voice of his. Even from what little had been directed at me, I could sense its power. Somehow he had hypnotized her, held her captive with his words. He made her believe she actually wanted to stay with him!_

_Then, he let us go. I couldn't comprehend why he would do such a thing after he had finally tricked her into staying, but I took my chance and we escaped. I actually thought it was over. I thought we were safe! And then Christine…she uttered some nonsense about this being 'wrong' and she just jumped into the water! I was frozen in shock; I couldn't make myself stop her. _

_It seemed like hours- though it had only been minutes- when the mob found me down there, still staring at the spot where she had been sitting in the boat._

_One of the men asked me if I'd seen where the Phantom had gone…I could only shake my head in mute horror. I assume he only let us go so I would be tricked into a state of calm, giving him a chance to steal her away from me once more. Somehow he must have been controlling her still with that damn voice of his!_

I wasn't sure what to say to him, for I couldn't be sure that what he told me was the complete truth. I tried my best to console him and then shooed him from my home at the first opportunity…

xXx

Madame Giry kept her gaze locked on Erik as she finished recounting her story. His eyes were molten, but his face as inscrutable as always.

"It seems the boy hasn't been embellishing completely, though I can assure you I was not using my voice to influence Christine's decision. Her…affections were as much a surprise to me as they were to him."

He looked decidedly uncomfortable as he began his recollection of events.

**XxxX**

_Her silent determination was plain on her face. _

_I'd totally dismantled this child… taken her to pieces in my crazed determination to make her heart tick in harmony with my own. I'd taught her to sing like one of God's own angels, I'd loved her more than anything else upon this earth… but my love had destroyed her, reduced her to a pitiful creature barely aware of her own actions… made her as mad as I was myself._

_As I watched, she slowly lifted her arm towards me. With trembling hands she caressed the distorted side of my face. Her fingers crept hesitantly across the ruined flesh, her touch so gentle…afraid she would injure me, I suppose. She needn't have worried; the nerves on the right side of my face have been nearly dormant for the entirety of my life, registering only slight irritation at the chafing of my mask._

_But her touch…that I could feel. It scorched through me, deep into my core._

_A moment longer she stood, like a terrified swimmer on the top of a dizzying cliff, contemplating a plunge that was utterly beyond her courage._

_"_Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"

_Stunned, incredulous, scarcely able to believe in what I heard and saw, I wrapped my arms around her slim waist and held her there, almost trembling._

_And then suddenly I was no longer the teacher, but the pupil… for her arms were around my neck, her caressing hands an insistent pressure against my skull, drawing me forward with unbelievable strength into her embrace._

_When her lips closed over mine I tasted the salt of tears, but it was impossible to say whether they were mine or hers._

_Deeper and deeper she swam down into that embrace, dragging me relentlessly back up with her into the searing light of day. She kicked away the crutches of hate that had sustained me so long and made me stand with helpless wonder while her hands once more sought my face and drew it down to hers._

_A long, long time she held me, as though she could not bear to let me go, and when at last we drew apart, we stared at each other with silent awe, dazed by the intensity of what we had shared._

_It was finished then; of course… that kiss ended everything._

_I knew I could not kill that wretched boy. I could no longer allow myself to ruin the happiness she so deserved._

_I told them to take the boat and leave, told them to forget me. I watched as he pulled her into the boat and they started to coast away. Numb, I stumbled back to my room, apathetic of my fate. I sat there, ready for death…_

_And then I heard her voice. She had come to save me once again._

**XxxX**

"She really has saved my life, Madame. I've never had a reason to better myself, but now I can't imagine being anything less than admirable. I'll never stop trying to deserve her."

Madame Giry seemed touched by his sincere words; she blinked back tears before composing herself once more.

After a moment of deliberation, Erik pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I really should go," he said as he pulled away. "She has been waiting since early this morning. Goodbye, Antoinette." There was a note of finality to his voice.

Madame Giry seized his arm as he turned to leave. "Wait, Erik. There's something else I have to tell you…"

xXx

The trees whipped past dangerously as Erik hurtled through the forest on Cesar's back.

Erik had never really known the sort of connections that other humans tended to rejoice in. The only family he had ever known- his mother- had made it painfully clear that she did not consider him a son. He left at the first opportunity, never looking back, and had been wandering ever since. This was the first time he had chosen to be alone. Afterwards, the loneliness was thrust upon him.

For a very brief time, in Italy, he had thought that maybe he could be loved after all. That his existence was not a mistake and he would finally know what it was to be wanted. But trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went and ruined that chance as well.

After the hell that was Persia, with very few bright spots to carry him through, he returned to his home country weary of the ways of man.

He was now used to a very solitary existence. Once resigned to live out his life below the kingdom he had helped to create, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. No more trying to fit in with the society that so obviously hated him.

But it seemed that he was destined to be pulled out of that resignation, back into the light of day.

He found companionship in the form of Antoinette Giry, who became a sort of sister to him. By extension, he felt quite protective of little Meg Giry, for the simple fact that anything bad happening to her would hurt Madame terribly. Meg treated him with open distrust at first, which slowly mellowed into cautious affection. And Christine…she pulled him out of his depression like no one else could.

Three people. Three people in the whole of the world who he cared for and who somehow cared for him in return.

His only other friend, he thought dead long ago.

He thought wrong.

Another ghost that refused to rest.

**XxxX**

There was no warning before Erik burst through the door. Christine cursed her stupidity. Had she not heard heavy footsteps earlier? In her excitement she had flung herself to the door to welcome him without thinking about the fact the he was very nearly silent wherever he went. Hearing an approach at all clearly indicated that it couldn't be her beloved angel, simply because of the fact that he was too careful to create such noise.

She had been sitting in uncomfortable silence all morning, wishing for Erik's swift return. Their guest had refused to chat until Erik was home, and since she did not have the resources for any hospitality, the only thing she could offer was a glass of water while he waited.

The strange man claimed to be an old acquaintance of Erik's, but with his strange dress and distinct accent, she was loathe to trust anything he said.

Erik's eyes immediately darted to her when he entered, checking to see that she was safe. She jumped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around her neck.

He placed a quick kiss in the fragrant curls upon her head, murmuring assurances before pulling away and finally turning to look at their guest. Christine clung to his side as Erik addressed the foreign man.

"To what do I owe this distinct honor? I am certain it is quite rare to be graced with a visit from a dead friend. I must be important."

Christine was surprised to see the trace of a smirk playing about Erik's mouth as he spoke. _Friend? I was not aware he had any acquaintances beyond the Girys…_

The dark-skinned man's face crinkled into a wide grin. "You haven't changed a bit, Erik."

Erik extended a hand in greeting and they shook.

"It's nice to see you again, Nadir."

* * *

><p><strong>Well…what do you think? I just had to bring Nadir in. It couldn't be helped.<strong>

**A few passages were adapted from Kay's novel.**

**Sorry about the long wait! I'm incredibly thankful for each and every review and will reply to any questions/suggestions you may have!**


	5. Homecoming

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, I meant to finish this and post it yesterday….but, well, I was moving into my new bedroom.**

**I've been sharing with my two sisters for my whole life and I've finally got my own room! Needless to say I was enjoying getting everything set up. I'm now typing from my very own desk, huzzah!**

**Anyway…I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please, please, PLEASE review!  
>I promise to send a very nice reply <strong>

_**Homecoming**_

Erik had found some tea leaves in his home beneath the Opera, so while he was catching up with his friend - _friend! -_ Christine began to brew some tea for the three of them. It gave her something to do and made her feel less out of place as the men discussed what had happened in their years apart.

"How did you escape from the Shah's wrath? I'm sure that he and the Khanum weren't pleased when you didn't bring me back with you."

Christine listened intently as she busied herself in the small kitchen area. Every detail was another piece of the puzzle that was Erik. Even if she didn't understand half of it.

"I didn't go back. After I left you, I returned to my home and packed as much as I could, then fled the country. I ended up in Germany for a while before venturing to England, Spain, and eventually France. I knew that you would probably return here after the…unpleasantness you endured in Persia. It was only a matter of time before I found you. I was passing through Paris and heard rumor of some sort of Opera Ghost who played tricks and left mysterious notes. I immediately bought a season pass to the Opera Populaire." Nadir's lined face cracked into a grin at Erik's grimace. "I had hoped to somehow bump into you, but after a few months I almost gave up!"

"You were here for months and I never saw you?"

"That's right. Obviously your attention was diverted on other matters…" Nadir's gaze flickered to Christine and she blushed as she served the tea before joining them on the settee. She looped her hand through Erik's left arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, hiding from the strange man's curious glance.

Erik coughed a little mid-sip. "Yes, well…. I admit I was a little distracted at the time." He grinned at Christine whose eyebrows pulled together, obviously offended to be referred to as a simple distraction. He quickly planted a kiss on her forehead, effectively smoothing out her hurt expression. "I'm sorry, Christine. I don't believe I've properly introduced you two. This is Nadir Khan. He was the daroga- chief of police- in Persia. We were allies of a sort while I lived there. He helped me to escape when things became…difficult."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daaé. I had hoped that Erik would find someone to share his heart with- he was always so lonely, you see- and you seem to be the perfect companion for him. I haven't seen him this happy…well; I've never seen him this happy." He chuckled and took a sip of his tea.

Christine's face warmed again at his compliment. "Thank you, Monsieur Khan. But, how did you know my name?"

"Ah, we've finally come to the important bit. To put it simply, Madame Giry. But I'm sure you both would like to know how I came to meet her. After the Bal Masque on New Year's Eve, there were stories spreading like wildfire among those who frequented the Populaire. They told tales of a strange man, clothed in red, who interrupted the evening and gave the managers a new Opera to perform, all the while railing on about his 'student'. I didn't know much about the situation so I asked around the corps de ballet- they tend to know everything that happens backstage- and met the young Meg Giry who took me to see her mother."

xXx

_I met her after a practice session one evening and demanded to know everything she could tell me about this Opera Ghost. She initially refused and assured me that she didn't know anything about the man, but after I mentioned your name, Erik, her eyes grew wide and she ushered me into her small apartment backstage. She made me tell her how I knew you, extracted every last detail, before she would believe me._

"_Monsieur, if you truly know Erik, you must help him. He's not himself lately and I'm afraid of what he might do." She was wringing her hands and had a desperate gleam in her eye. I was able to calm her somewhat, and she began to tell me of the 'Phantom'. How you had tutored Mademoiselle Daaé from a young age and had grown quite attached to her. _

"_There was…an accident. A scene shifter, Joseph Buquet…"_

"_That was the man hanged during Il Muto?"_

"_You know of this, Monsieur?"_

"_I saw it happen."_

"_Yes, well. After that night, Christine refused to attend any more lessons with her tutor. She began seeing a patron of the Opera- the Vicomte de Chagny. She told me they were engaged to be married; but that I was to keep it a secret…I knew Erik would find out anyway. He always knows. As I suspected, the news enraged him. He threw himself into that damn Opera- his _Don Juan Triumphant_. I knew it was dangerous and that he only worked on it in times of extreme stress…Then on the night of the Masquerade Ball, he brought it to the managers and demanded they begin rehearsal to perform it. He was so terribly upset, he couldn't see reason…opening night is next week, and I'm afraid of what he might do. I know he would never hurt Christine, but the Vicomte? I'm not sure of his safety."_

_I promised her that I would be there on opening night, but I wasn't sure if I would be able to help. I asked her to show me to your home in the cellars, but she refused. Said you would not be in any shape for visitors._

xXx

Erik was very still throughout Nadir's story, and Christine clung to his arm as though he might jump up and run through the door, never to be seen again. She could tell being reminded of just how far his madness had gone hurt him deeply. There were so many regrets. His stress was palpable, a tangible presence in the air, as Nadir continued.

"After you disappeared with Miss Daaé, the Opera House was in pandemonium. I tried to follow but didn't want to be caught up in the crowds backstage and trampled; so instead I left, hoping to find Madame Giry once more. I waited at her home, but the hour was late and I thought it better to return the next morning. Over tea the next day Madame told me that you must have some other residence nearby for emergency purposes, but she did not know where it would be. I've been searching around the outskirts of Paris since yesterday afternoon. And here we are."

No one spoke for an eternity. Erik's gaze was solidly on the floor while Christine and Nadir both watched him, anxious for his reaction.

Suddenly his eyes softened and he broke into a grin. "Obviously this place is not as hidden as I thought if an old man could find it so easily!"

Christine instantly relaxed, threading her fingers through his and giving his hand a light squeeze of encouragement.

"I've had enough experience with you, Monsieur Phantom, to know just the right kind of places to look!" The Daroga teased lightly. "But what will you do now? Will you leave Paris? Madame Giry told me the boy was still looking for you."

Christine looked up at him with interest. This was news.

"First things first. Christine and I," Erik looked over at her with a gleam in his eye. "We are getting married."

Nadir didn't look very surprised at this announcement. "Well I should hope so, the way you keep looking at each other."

Christine's face reddened once more, but Erik continued on as if his old friend hadn't spoken. "I know someone who will marry us. But we have to go to Boscherville. It's about 130 kilometers northwest of Paris, so just half a day's traveling now that we have Cesar."

**XxxX**

It had been decided that Nadir would ride back to Paris and inform the Girys of the wedding plans. They were to travel by train to Boscherville for the small ceremony, which would take place the following evening if all went well. 'All' meaning that Erik would be able to find this priest he had mentioned and that the man would be able (and willing) to marry them in secret.

Erik and his future bride would ride Cesar to Boscherville at once to get settled and prepared for their wedding. After the couple bid farewell to the Daroga, Erik began repacking their belongings more securely on his horse's back in preparation for the long ride ahead. He was interrupted when Christine came up behind him and wound her arms tightly around his waist, resting her head on his back.

He let himself relax into her embrace, enjoying her warmth and affection. To think that just weeks ago he was despairing over his impossible dreams, waiting for the production of _Don Juan_ to begin…

"Erik?"

"Hm?"

"I was wondering if you happened to retrieve that Red Death costume from your home…"

This question caught him off guard, but he answered her inquiry without hesitation, curious to hear the reason behind it.

"Yes, actually. Why do you ask?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, so he turned in her arms to face her. He reached up to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers, content to wait her out. She wouldn't meet his eyes.  
>Christine buried her head in his chest before finally mumbling "I just really liked it, that's all."<p>

_She liked it?_ Erik had brought the outfit along on a whim, not really wanting to leave it behind, but he definitely had not expected this. The night he had worn it, she was happily dancing with her then-fiancé at the _Bal Masque- _the annual Masquerade ball held at the Opera Populaire. She hadn't seen him for three months and seemed blissfully content with that fact at the time. Her surprise at his sudden entrance was evident, and he had thought that his raging interruption had ruined the night for her. But then he remembered the way she had gazed at him as they slowly stepped towards one another on the stairs…Now of course, because he knew her feelings, that brief encounter was a little less mysterious.

But still he did not expect her…_preference_ for the costume.

She could feel the rumble of his laughter against her cheek. "Well, I'll be sure to wear it as often as possible, if that would make you happy."

"Not too often; wouldn't want to lose the novelty of it." Her grin was mischievous as she pulled away.

**XxxX**

The wind was refreshing on her face, even though her back and legs were already sore. Christine was not used to the bouncing gait of a horse and was decidedly uncomfortable as they rode. She didn't complain, though, as she knew the ride would only take a few hours. Besides, she and Cesar were becoming fast friends and she did not want to offend him by voicing her discomfort.

She was, however, enjoying the feel of being held so tightly against her angel's chest, and soon drifted off to sleep within the warmth of his arms. When she awoke, Cesar's graceful sprint had slowed to a trot and the sun was beginning to set behind the trees. A small town could be seen in the distance.

**XxxX**

Erik brought the horse to a stop and sighed as he watched some of the residents of Boscherville returning to their homes for the night. "I never thought I would return to this place."

Christine's silence showed that she wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply twisted around to give him a kiss on the cheek in support. His face lifted into a tight smile in return before he looked away once more. He didn't want her to see the emotion raging in his eyes.

_I never thought I would return… _Even as he spoke the words he knew they weren't entirely true. For the past few months, some sort of force had been pulling him back to this dreaded town. He didn't really understand it, nor did he want to. This and his fevered obsession with finishing _Don Juan_ had kept him from investigating further. He had simply pushed it to the back of his mind.

He knew that had Christine stayed with the fop, thus prompting him to leave France altogether, he would have passed through Boscherville as he left; if only to satisfy his curiosity. Now that he was here, within sight of the place that had scorned him so long ago, the magnetism was even stronger. Troubled by this sensation, he nevertheless tried to keep his calm façade as he urged Cesar on.

They rode around the perimeter of the town to a small house on the outskirts, hidden in the beginnings of the forest. Erik lifted Christine down from the horse's back and led her to the front door. He didn't bother tying Cesar up as he knew the stallion would not wander off.

Christine watched his face anxiously as he reached to knock; hoping the silent mood he had settled into would pass. There was no answer from within the house.

Erik nodded to himself; apparently he was just trying to confirm what he already knew to be true- no one lived here any longer.

Without hesitation, Erik twisted the knob and the door opened easily. "Christine…this is where I grew up." He took her hand and led her inside. She couldn't help admiring the place. It was simple, yet beautiful, but it was obvious that it hadn't been lived in for years. A fine layer of dust coated everything inside.

His expression was unreadable as he glanced about and spoke softly, so as not to disturb whatever ghosts might have been left behind. "We will stay here until our new house is completed."

**XxxX**

_New house? _Her pulse quickened in surprise and anticipation even as her muddled brain tried to process the news.

Erik had obviously heard her sharp intake of breath and smirked at her expression.

"You…you're building us a house?"

"Well, yes. Not personally, of course- although I could. But I did design it. I've actually had this particular schematic in mind for quite some time, and it's been through many revisions over the years. It's being built at the outskirts of a small town between Paris and Versailles, somewhere that no one will recognize us and we can start over."

She was completely speechless. How? How did he plan this without her knowing? When had he talked to an architect and builders? The timing made no sense, but she didn't want to question him. He had always been mysterious, why start worrying about it now?

Unable to express her delight, she instead threw her arms around his neck and planted little kisses wherever she could reach as he lifted her off the floor. Everything was going to be perfect. She just couldn't wait to start this new adventure with him.

After a moment, he set her back on her feet but kept her hands in his warm grasp. "There is a priest here- Father Mansart- he knew me when I was a child. If he is still here, I'm sure I can convince him to marry us. As I recall, he was fond of me…or maybe he merely tolerated me, I can't be sure. I was, after all, a right terror towards him." Christine enjoyed these little glimpses into his past. He never seemed willing to come right out and tell her what had happened to him over the years, so brief stories like this one were all she had to go on.

"Would you like to accompany me to the parish? I was hoping to find him tonight to discuss our plans."

Christine nodded eagerly. Staying in this unknown, yet nice, house alone was not an idea she was willing to entertain. She wanted to stay with Erik, even if that meant walking around a strange town and possibly being stared at.

"Alright. I'll unload our belongings and we can go into town before it gets too dark."

**XxxX**

The last of the gas lanterns along the roads were just being lit as Erik and Christine strolled along. The sun seemed reluctant to release its last grip on the horizon and a faint orange glow could still be seen through the trees.

Erik had wrapped himself and his fiancé- _Fiancé! _The word gave him a thrill just to think about- in their cloaks and he had donned a wide-brimmed hat to conceal his mask. Even so, they kept to the shadows cast by the buildings lining the sidewalk. So far, the few townspeople still out and about paid little mind to the couple.

Erik was telling Christine a few precious stories from his childhood- about Father Mansart's somewhat awkward friendship and what he had taught him- trying to stem the flood of questions she never ceased to throw at him. He was attempting to shield her from the horror his life had been, and here she was trying her best to undermine him! Even so, he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with her. She was happy, and they were enjoying a nice walk through town, her hands wrapped possessively around his arm. It was liberating to feel like a normal man for once in his life.

"I haven't thought about it for years, but Father Mansart was actually my namesake," he mentioned after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Really? Was he a close friend of your parents before you were born? Is he your godfather?"

He hesitated a moment, considering. While it was true that Father Mansart seemed to take it upon himself to tutor Erik in the beliefs and traditions of the Catholic Church, he was certainly never _expressly chosen_ for that purpose. Erik's mother wanted as little to do with his upbringing as possible, and therefore pawned him off on one who couldn't turn him away.

He smothered the urge to sigh. Christine was again fishing for details, he could tell. Her enthusiasm to know everything about him would be endearing if he had a more…safe life to tell her about. After a further moment of deliberation, he decided to humor her. Certainly there were worse questions to answer...

"I suppose...in a way he _was _my Godfather. But not through any kinship with my parents. He was simply there when I was born and my mother refused to name me. She told the man to name me after himself…"

Just a slight picture of the woman who raised him, nothing like the other horrid stories he could tell of her, but even so Christine looked devastated. He knew she wouldn't be able to handle anything more morbid. Stories of Persia were out of the question, it seemed.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

He just shrugged. Any hurt his so-called mother had caused him, along with the hurts from the rest of his life, faded more with every day of happiness Christine brought him.

They had just reached the end of the street and were nearing the door of _Le église de Saint-Jude _when a woman came running up from across the way. "Excuse me, but I must speak to the priest at once!"

Erik pulled Christine back and opened the door to let the woman pass, as she seemed to be in a great hurry. As she stepped inside, she turned back. "Thank y-"

Her eyes went wide and she stared at them. "No. It can't be…how? That…that's impossible!"

Erik realized that the dim light from within the small church was illuminating them, making his mask visible to the woman. His brow furrowed as he contemplated the possible outcomes of this situation. "I'm sorry, Madame, but do I know you?"

"E-Erik? Erik is that really you?"

His glance darted to Christine in shock and a hint of fear. How did this woman know his name? He was reluctant to say anything at all until he knew who this woman was, so he simply watched the emotions flicker over her face, hoping she would introduce herself. He saw sadness, to be certain. A hint of pity- that thrice damned feeling he had no interest in receiving- surprise, and…hope? Why would she be hoping to see him? What had he ever done to inspire that in her?

"I-I'm terribly sorry. How rude of me. My name is Madame Perrault…you knew me as Marie."

Erik had always considered himself a very articulate man, regardless of being raised without learning strict manners. He considered it common sense, really. He always knew what to say in a polite manner, even if someone didn't deserve it, and in several languages. He had found, however, that the more time he spent with people- people who enjoyed defying and flustering him at every turn- the more he would become very…inarticulate.

Being speechless was not something he enjoyed, and neither was stuttering, but that didn't stop his mind and his words from failing him now.

"Marie…oh. Erm…it's nice to see you again, I suppose. You look…well…?" His attempt at a compliment failed him, turning into a question as his rational mind resumed its duty and noticed that she did not, in fact, look well. Her graying hair was a mess about her face, there were bags under her eyes that only enhanced the wrinkles, and her clothes looked rumpled from several days' wear. He was suddenly _very_ curious to know what was going on that she needed the priest at this hour. He tried to push his questions aside and resume polite conversation.

"Christine, this is…a friend of my…my mother's." He winced slightly at some old memory and continued. "She was a sort of…au pair for me when I lived here." Christine shock was still evident in her eyes even as the shy smile spread across her features and she reached to shake the woman's hand in greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, Madame."

"Likewise…" she trailed off, obviously unsure if she should refer to her as Christine- an action that would be incredibly forward; but she also did not know whether to call her Madame or Mademoiselle.

An awkward silence descended before Marie remembered her purpose. "I'm sorry, but I really must bring the priest back with me. There's not much time."

Erik sensed an opportunity for more information and pounced. "If you don't mind my asking, Madame, what exactly is happening? Why do you need the_ Prêtre?"_

He watched as her eyes clouded over. She cleared her throat and shattered the fragile peace that had been blooming in his life.

"It's your mother, Erik. She's dying."

**Would you look at that, another cliffhanger! Sometimes I hate myself…this is not one of those times.  
>MWAHAHA :P<strong>


	6. Requiem

**A little bit of angst ahead! You all have waited long enough so I'll let you get right to the chapter and put the A/N at the end Enjoy! (btw, this hasn't been beta'd and its 3am so I apologize in advance for any mistakes)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Requiem<strong>_

Such simple things, doorknobs…so inconsequential one hardly stops to think about them. They are merely tools to aid in getting from one place to another. Yet, as Erik stared into the bronzed metal of the knob in front of him, he couldn't help but think of it as mocking him. He couldn't bring himself to open the door, to walk in and see what was waiting within.

"_It's your mother, Erik. She's dying."_

Dying.

Death never seemed that awful to him. He had taken so many lives over the years that he had grown cold to it.

He'd almost escaped into death's bliss several times himself. Once by his own hand.

But even after everything the woman had put him through; the thought of his mother dying made his blood run cold.

Now he finally knew what had been pulling him back to Boscherville.

Just as with Christine, he'd always had a sort of connection with his mother. He could sense her presence nearby and sometimes even feel her emotions. When his mother was away, he could sneak down from his attic bedroom and find peace at the old piano in the den. When mother was angry, he would know not to go near her. He had learned the best ways to coexist with her, always dreading the moment when he would do something wrong.

But when he'd run away from home that day, he'd been so full of anger and remorse that the connection fizzled away. He'd assumed it gone for good, but maybe that was the nagging sensation at the back of his mind these past few months. Telling him his time was running out: _If you ever want to see her again, you must hurry._

"_Your mother…she's dying."_

Erik had frozen when Mme. Perrault uttered those words. All he could think about was that he'd never told her goodbye….It was silly, really. The woman hated him, but he still loved her. He had left to relieve the burden that was his hideous face, left to restore the sanity he'd taken from her. She probably danced with joy when she woke to find him gone…

After announcing his mother's impending fate, Marie had disappeared into the church to fetch the priest and left him and Christine outside. He stood in shock, not believing the words he felt in his heart to be true. Christine was trying to talk to him, but there was an odd rushing in his ears and he couldn't hear her.

Marie returned with the Priest in tow. Somehow Erik could ascertain through the fog that shrouded him that this man was not Father Mansart. He looked about thirty, with a tangled mass of red hair coming down to his ears. He was probably Father Mansart's young apprentice of a sort…_Did priests train replacements? Were they even allowed to retire? _

Once again, his thoughts drifted lazily through matters of little importance. Yet, he told himself, such thoughts were distracting him from the current situation, and therefore perfectly acceptable.

Madame Perrault made hasty introductions before leading their small group through the streets, down a side road and into a small apartment. Had Erik been paying more attention, he would have heard as Marie explained how Madeleine had moved in with her after his disappearance. Her health started to take a turn for the worse months ago, and shortly thereafter it was assumed to be cancer.

And that blasted door was all that separated him from the woman he thought dead long ago.

"She has been asking for you."

His head snapped to look at Madame Perrault, incredulous as to why she would say such a thing. His mother didn't care about him in the slightest, and he would question the sanity of anyone who claimed to _want_ to be in his presence…But then there was Christine, someone whose clarity of mind rivaled his own and she was here beside him of her own free will…

Would the world ever make sense?

He turned back to the door with a deep sigh and ran a hand down the unmasked side of his face. For the first time in years, Erik found himself longing for the pressure of a needle. The sweet numbing relief morphine had always brought him; welcoming him like an old friend. But he hadn't lost himself that way since, well…

Christine had become his drug of choice instead.

He had no morphine, nor did he want to revisit the pain of withdrawal when he inevitably quit again. Besides, nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him in that dim bedroom.

He reached for the doorknob, determined not to let that little piece of metal beat him, and opened the door slowly.

"Ch…Cha..rles..?"

He couldn't see her very well in the gloom, and he doubted very much she could see him well either, but even so…s_he must be in a really bad way to confuse me with him._ Erik's father had been dead for months before he was born, so he never knew the man. But he had seen a photo of him once. His mother had been out and he found the worn photograph while rummaging about things he had no business with in his mother's room. From what he could recall, the man was very handsome.

But his deformity killed any chance of resembling his father.

The sound of her voice brought back so many memories of things he didn't want to remember, even hoarse and weak as it was. Regardless, he was propelled into the room without really wanting to enter.

He found himself sitting on the side of her bed, clasping her frail hand in his before he knew what was happening. Her face was a ruined shadow of the beauty it once held. Time and disease had seen to that.

He tried to find his voice to say something, anything at all to the woman who had raised him- _if one can really call it that_- but found himself at a loss once again. Suddenly he felt the warmth of Christine's presence at his side, and her hand gripped his shoulder in support.

"Mother, it's me. It's Erik."

Her eyes fought to focus on his face, and he saw a flicker of recognition there.

After a few moments of tense silence as they stared into each other's eyes, she sighed and her lips twitched just a bit. _She is attempting to smile at me? _Some other part of his mind grudgingly acknowledged that his expression probably looked very similar when he smirked at people.

"Erik."

He had no clue what to say to her. It would have been better for everyone if she were already dead.

**XxxX**

Christine felt a little out of place. Actually, very extremely out of place. She couldn't help but think that she was intruding on a private moment. Even if she did want to hear what Erik's mother would say to him, she would rather give him this time to say goodbye. But when she tried to pull her hand from his shoulder and back away, he reached up and gripped her fingers to hold her there.

The motion drew his mother's attention, and Christine now felt the weight of Madeleine's eyes on her. She looked to be scrutinizing her. For what purpose, she couldn't tell; but it was very intimidating. She couldn't bring herself to hold the woman's gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Erik…wh-who is your lovely…fr...friend?" The pitiful woman had to fight for every word, but Christine did not feel sorry for her. She'd learned enough from what little Erik spoke of her to know that the woman was an awful excuse for a mother. She had to fight to keep the animosity she felt for her off her face.

Erik had once told her that she was like an open book, her emotions and thoughts flittering across her face without thought for suppression. This was helpful when she was onstage and channeling a character, but very inconvenient otherwise.

Erik looked up at her over his shoulder and the warmth in his eyes caught her off guard. She smiled tightly back at him and tried to remember that this was about him and his mother. About giving him a chance to make things right with her, and she shouldn't be letting her thoughts and judgments get in the way of that.

"Mother, this is my…fiancée, Christine." It was the first time either of them had said the word out loud, and it gave her a thrill to think about. Even though he was holding his dying mother's hand, he was beaming up at her as if she were the most miraculous thing in the universe. Like he couldn't believe she was there with him, or that she existed at all. A rush of emotion swept through her and she felt the tingle of unshed tears in her eyes. She brought her other hand up to quickly swipe them away.

"Oh…Erik, that…that's just wonderful." Erik's head swiveled back to look at Madeleine so quickly she almost missed the movement at all. One moment he was gazing at her lovingly, the next all she could see was the back of his head and the smooth dark hair that grew there.

He was obviously just as surprised as she was at Madeleine's words.

"I'm ha-happy you found some…one, Eri...k."

He was doing his 'I have no idea what to say but will try to preserve my all-important dignity and speak anyway' routine again. His voice was unsteady when he spoke next, but became stronger as he went on.

"Th-thank you, mother. We are very happy together."

She smiled at him. And she actually looked like she might have meant it.

Suddenly her face scrunched in pain and she gasped as though some unseen force was squeezing her lungs. Marie flew to the other side of the bed to hold her hand until she calmed. "Shh, it's okay Madeleine. It's almost over. I brought Father Ame for _l'onction des maladies_, just like you asked."

The young priest stepped forward but looked reluctant to interrupt and instead stayed at the foot of the bed. Erik stood and gestured for the man to take his place at his mother's bedside. The priest- Father Ame- pulled out some sort of oil and dripped it across Madeleine's forehead before he started murmuring a soft prayer.

When it seemed as though most of the pain had passed, Madeleine looked at Erik with renewed purpose shining in her eyes.

"E-Erik, sing f..for me, ple..ase?"

Christine had both her hands wrapped around Erik's arm, so she felt him stiffen at his mother's request. Marie looked up and smiled at him in encouragement.

"Erik, would you? She's always said how much she loved your music. It would be good for her to hear one last time."

Erik didn't look like he believed a word of it, but sighed and nodded anyway. Father Ame finished his duty and moved back to his place near the door. Erik hesitantly moved closer to his mother's side once again, and Christine went with him. He didn't seem to know what to sing, but after a moment's thought, he took a deep breath and began.

_When you feel you're alone,_

_cut off from this cruel world,_

_Your instinct's telling you to run…_

_Listen to your heart,_

_those angel voices._

_They'll sing to you,_

_they'll be your guide_

_back home_

_When life leaves us blind,_

_Love keeps us kind_

Christine had never heard this song before, and she wasn't sure if it was one of his old compositions that he hadn't shared with her or something new. He could have been making it up as he went along. He was certainly talented enough. The words were so heartfelt she couldn't keep a tear from escaping and sliding down her cheek.

_When you've suffered enough,_

_and your spirit is breaking,_

_You're growing desperate from the fight…_

As Erik was singing Madeleine's eyes slid closed and Christine felt a stab of panic that the woman was gone, but her eyelids fluttered and Christine realized she was simply enjoying Erik's music the same way she herself sometimes did. With her eyes closed to focus on the silken warmth of his voice. She let herself do the same.

_Remember you're loved,_

_and you always will be._

_This melody will bring you right_

_back home_

_When life leaves us blind_

_Love keeps us kind_

When Christine opened her eyes, Madeleine had tears streaming down her face, but she looked peaceful despite the pain she was obviously feeling.

_When life leaves us blind_

_Love keeps us kind…_

Erik's song came to a close and he kneeled by his mother's side, clutching her hand once more. She sighed and brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles softly.

"I…I'm sorry that I n-never realized be…fore, but…_it all…begins with….love, _E-Erik."

Something in those words startled Erik and he let out a small gasp.

"Mother…?"

"You des…erve to be h-happ..y," Madeleine's eyes slowly slid upwards to meet Christine's, and once again the younger woman felt like squirming under her gaze. "P-promise me that you…you'll take care…of him."

Christine wasted no time in nodding determinedly.

Her eyes slid closed once more, but this time Christine could tell they wouldn't open again. Erik got to his feet unsteadily and, after a moment's hesitation, leaned down to kiss his Mother on the forehead. It was a very sweet gesture, and one Christine would not have expected from him. He abruptly turned and left the room as if he could not stand to be there for one second longer. After a slight smile at Madame Perrault and a nod to the priest still standing by the door, Christine followed him.

**XxxX**

Erik took his mother's tenderness towards him with a grain of salt. The woman was dying and obviously wanted some measure of atonement for her past crimes before entering "the great beyond" or whatever awaited her. But those words she had uttered just before she passed- _it all begins with love_- that struck a chord in him somewhere. Maybe…but no. Certainly not. She couldn't have…could she?

He needed to get back to the house. He needed to check, just to be sure…

Before he got two steps out the front door of the small building, he remembered his plans for the following day and turned around, sweeping past Christine who had been close behind him.

"Father Ame?"

The man in question left the dark room where Madeleine's body lay and stepped into the hall with him.

"Is there something you need, Monsieur?"

"Excuse me, Father, but do you have any knowledge of Father Mansart? Is he still In town?"

If the man was surprised by Erik's question, he gave no sign. "Yes, actually. He resides in a house not far from the parish. He passed most of the everyday dealings of the church to me, but still serves in an official capacity…"

Erik released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Do you think I could meet with him this evening? I have something very important I'd like to discuss."

This did give the man pause. He was probably expecting the son of a just-dead woman to be distraught with grief, not making social calls. _Well, tough. I did not come this far to let something so inconsequential ruin my new start with Christine._

"Of course. I will take you to him."

**XxxX**

When Erik came back out of the small building behind the young priest his eyes were bright and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as soon as he saw Christine. He took her hand and they trailed after Father Ame.

Christine couldn't help glancing up at him as they walked; just checking to make sure he was alright. The fact that he seemed to be completely fine should have reassured her, but in fact did quite the opposite. This wasn't normal. Granted, Erik had never fallen into the 'normal' category for as long as she'd known him, and probably never would. But still…his mother had died not twenty minutes ago and the man looked as though he hadn't a care in the world!

Christine realized that she would never quite understand him and sighed. When he looked over at her questioningly, she just smiled and realized that he was probably just as baffled by her.

**XxxX**

Father Mansart was reading in his study, as he usually did before turning in for the night, when he heard a knock on his front door. It wasn't unheard of for a parishioner to want to speak with him at this time of night, so he put his book aside with a sigh and shouted "Come in."

His colleague Marc Ame was soon peering in the doorway. "I'm sorry to bother you, Father. But I thought you should know Madeleine passed away this evening."

Father Mansart knew it was coming, but this news was still hard for him to hear. He and Madeleine had once been fairly close friends, but it had been many, many years since they spoke properly. Not since he had attempted that exorcism on the boy… He shuddered. He could never quite forgive himself for that lapse in judgment…

When Madeleine realized her days were coming to an end, she even requested that he _not_ be the one to read her the Last Rites.

He sighed. "I'm sorry to hear it. But with the pain she has been in these past few months, perhaps she is better off. Thank you for coming to tell me."

He expected Father Ame to excuse himself after delivering his news, but the younger man was still hovering in the doorway looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Was there something else you needed, Marc?"

He looked up at him and cleared his throat. "Yes, actually, Father. You have a visitor. Someone who would like to speak with you…."

Father Mansart was becoming a little annoyed with the man's hesitation. He was pushing seventy eight and not interested in beating around the bush any longer. "Well, who is it?" He replied gruffly.

"Its…well, sir, its Madeleine's son. I believe he said his name was Erik?"

Whatever response he had been planning flew out the window along with any drowsiness he had been feeling moments earlier.

"Send him in."

**XxxX**

While Father Ame was speaking to Father Mansart down the hall, Erik tried to prepare Christine as much as possible.

"I'm not sure what he will think. The last time I saw him…" His eyes slid shut as he remembered. "Let's just say we did not part on the greatest of terms. Regardless of what he did and how I treated him because of it, I know he was just trying to help me. I always respected him, right from the beginning, and still do. He got me interested in music in the first place. Even tried giving me voice lessons." He chuckled at some errant thought and continued.

"But I did love to mess with him. I suppose I can't blame him for something I may have inadvertently suggested. The man had really convinced himself that I was possessed by some entity…!" He trailed off and looked at Christine whose eyes were wide with disbelief.

"He thought you were demon-possessed. And we are going to sit down and have a nice chat with him?"

"Really, Christine, it's okay. I've forgiven him. Let's just hope he can do the same for me."

They sat in silence for the next few minutes while they waited, Christine glancing nervously at Erik every few seconds only to have him smile a little to reassure her.

They both looked up when Father Ame returned. "He is able to speak with you in his study down the hall. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to the church."

Erik nodded at the man and Christine said "Of course, Father. Thank you."

They watched him leave before heading to the study.

When they entered the room, no one spoke. Father Mansart was looking at Erik with something akin to wonder. He was obviously surprised- and it seemed pleasantly so- to see him again after so long. Just as Erik worked up the courage to say something and was opening his mouth to do just that, Father Mansart stood from his desk and practically skipped over to him, capturing him in a tight embrace.

Erik looked helplessly over at Christine, obviously uncomfortable with this turn of events and unsure how to proceed. She was trying very hard to stifle her laughter at his expression, which must have been something to see from the way she was acting. His eyes narrowed, but he had to stop himself from smirking also, her happiness was so infectious. _Traitor, _he thought to her as he held his arms awkwardly around the older man, but not quite touching him.

After a moment of this, Father Mansart pulled away. He stood holding Erik's forearms as his expression calmed from delight to something a little more somber.

"I'm sorry we had to meet again under such circumstances, my boy, but I am so glad to be seeing you again."

"Likewise, Father." He smiled slightly at him and continued "But in all honesty, tonight's….unfortunate events are not the reason I- _we _came here." Erik's correction alerted the priest that they were not alone in the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was so surprised to see Erik I almost did not notice you there!" He said to Christine, some of his earlier exuberance returning. Christine smiled shyly in response.

"Hello, Father. Erik has told me all about you. "

"Father, this is Christine Daaé. She is my fiancée," Erik introduced. He reached out for her hand and, when she took it, pulled her closer to his side. The more times he said the word _fiancée _the happier he became.

Father Mansart's face lit up when he heard Erik's announcement. He promptly turned to Christine and pulled her into a hug with almost as much gusto as he had with Erik. Christine blushed and looked to Erik while hesitantly patting the man on the back.

Erik's smug look and the playful light in his eyes clearly said "_Not so funny now, is it?"_

When the priest pulled away, he took Christine's right hand in his and placed a small kiss to her knuckles. "Forgive me for my impropriety, but this is the best news I have received in ages! It is lovely you meet you, my dear." He placed Christine's hand in Erik's before wrapping his own hands around their joined ones. He looked back and forth from Erik to Christine as he spoke. "There is no greater joy than seeing two people so devoted to each other. Please, come have a seat." He released their hands and gestured to the two chairs across the desk from his.

"Thank you, Father," Erik said as they all sat in their respective chairs. Christine kept her hand locked with his in her lap. "We actually came to Boscherville because, well, we were hoping you would marry us?" His statement turned into a question as his apprehension kicked in. He cleared his throat to clarify. "Tomorrow. We were hoping you would be able to marry us tomorrow in a small ceremony. Just us and a few friends."

Father Mansart was flabbergasted, but tried his best to hide it. "It would be the greatest honor, Erik."

xXx

They left the priest's house after discussing details such as time of day (sunset) and the type of ceremony they would like. Christine having hesitantly suggested writing their own vows. Erik agreed wholeheartedly.

They headed back towards his childhood home in an almost dreamlike state. His mother's death had given him closure, at least somewhat, on that part of his life.

For the first time in ages, Erik found himself actually tired and longing for the warm comfort of a bed. He supposed it was long overdue. The sun had finally given up and slipped below the horizon, and the conversation he'd had with Nadir back in Paris seemed a lifetime ago. _Was that really only this morning? _

He was quite certain he would fall asleep promptly tonight for once.

But not yet. There was something he needed to investigate once they arrived back at the house. Then, and only then, would he finally be able to let go of the past.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Phew, okay! **

**I just want to say how sorry I am for making you all wait so long for this one (what was it, two months? Holy crap!) Really, really, REALLY sorry. Did the length of this chapter and the lack of a (big) cliffhanger make up for it? A little? No? Well, can't blame a girl for trying.  
>Things got crazy near the end of the semester and then right as I started to have more time to write, my muse up and deserted me! How inconsiderate of it. But I was finally able to sit down and crank the rest of this chapter out. I hope I stayed relatively in character. It was hard to write Madeleine's death scene as I've never had to sit by someone's deathbed…but I have a little bit of an emotional disconnect when it comes to death, so I hope I was able to portray that part of Erik fairly well.<strong>

**The song Erik sang to Madeleine was "The Messenger" by Linkin Park, which I thought fit Erik. I wanted it to seem like a sort of autobiography- like he was trying to explain his life to his mother in the only way he can. As always, I don't own the lyrics to the song, all rights go to their respective owners, etc…**

**[I've started posting this story on LiveJournal as well, which I will continue to update with this and other fics along with this site. Just look up my username (irelandsavage) over on LJ if you would rather follow me that way.]**

**I'll try to have the next chapter up pretty quickly (definitely will NOT take as long this time, promise). Sorry again guys, but thanks for sticking around. Your reviews really do help when I'm blocked, so please click that lovely blue button down there and let me know what you think!**


End file.
